


A Dragon's call | Whumptober 2020

by Maewan



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fic, Hanging, M/M, Merlin bbc - Freeform, Other, TW: Suicide, Whumptober 2020, no.1 - Freeform, tw: depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewan/pseuds/Maewan
Summary: This is it. Merlin, Arthur and all the amazing characters from the BBC Merlin are stuck in a series of short stories, related or not, for the annual whumptober.  Of course, it means lots of hurt, comfort and, if we are lucky, supportive knights.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Welcome to that brand-new story (and stories, in that case) in the Merlin's fandom. I just wanted to warn you that English is my second language so, even if I used Antidote, there may still be several grammar mistakes in the fiction itself. Sorry in advance and see you later!

He had no choices. Merlin keeps muttering these words as he walked past the citadel’s doors. The guards standing there, one at each side of said doors, barely send a curious glance at him. It was not usual for the young warlock to go out in the middle of the night. Most of the time, nightfall – or even later – was the moment he left the city to collect plants for Gaius. Some flowers were blooming away from the sun, while the moon was high and full. For that reason, the soldiers just nodded in his direction and reminded him to be careful. Bandits used to roam the woods around the citadel and his royal pratness needed his manservant. Ok. He added the prat part. Still, after tonight, Arthur and Merlin would belong to the past. The young prince, soon-to-be king, needed not him now. He had seen enough lately to know. Arthur was not the once and future king. He hated magic as much as his father does and will do until the day he died. Morgana had every right to lose her mind, growing up in a place where people like her were burned at the stake, even when they used their powers to help and protect their loved ones.  
“He will forget me. After all, we were just manservant and prince … not friends.” As if he wanted to befriend an idiot like Arthur. Real friends don’t throw goblets and various pieces of furniture at you. A sad smile graced the brunet’s lips. He remembered a time, in Ealdor, when Will pop out of nowhere with something to eat for them. They would grab hands and run together in the woods, laughing and playing tricks on the local bullies. They were poor, Merlin even more than Will’s family, but so much happier. Back then, no destiny darkened his future and threatened to crush him if he failed.  
After some time, the small way through the trees widened and opened in a beautiful clearing. Here and there, white flowers faced the snowy full moon. Like stars fallen from the sky and to the peaceful earth. The soft wind made them dance shyly, nervous to move under a stranger’s gaze. In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by green grass, an oak stood. Oaks were magnificent. Older than most humans, they waited there and only shared their knowledge with a few chosen ones. Long ago, one of them sent a dream to Merlin. One about a world of magic. A world in which he was free to be himself and not some babbling, goofy, stupid manservant. A world with Arthur, the King, by his side and staring at his people with fond eyes. With kids roaring with laughter in the wide streets of Camelot, chasing each other’s and sending sparkles of magic toward their friends. It happened not long after he first step foot in Camelot and, like an idiot, he thought of a glimpse from the future. If it were, he probably messed it up somewhere. Like he did with Morgana, and probably Mordred too. Well, at least, Mordred had not attacked them for now. He was somewhere with his fellow druids, happy and alive. Hanging from a branch, a liana caught his eyes and merlin waved his wrist, calling it to him and making a knot with what could be called a cord in that case. According to the legend, taking someone’s life sends you to a terrible place in the afterlife. Doing so with yourself condemn the person to even worse … reincarnation where they would suffer even more. Funny enough, Merlin though nothing could be worst than what he was enduring right now. The other day, he barely avoids being caught by Leon, using magic to protect them in an ambuscade. The final countdown before his burning had begun and he chooses to die to his own terms. Not with Arthur’s hateful eyes on him, but with his laugh in his ears and his smile behind his closed eyelids.  
“I guess it’s time to go…” whispered Merlin, slowly climbing the tree. For one moment, he turned his blue eyes where he heard a rustle in the bushes below. Probably his imagination. Some part of him wishing for a sudden twist in his fate, in the form of a friend coming to stop him. A chuckled escaped his lips at his stupidity. No one was coming. With that in mind, Merlin straightened the knot around his neck and made the last step between his life and death. “Freya, I’m coming,” the young man whispered and then, nothing. Nothing but the blissful darkness.

* * *

Gwaine had been at the tavern – again – and stumbled out of the place around the witching hour. Maybe earlier. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the familiar figure of his friend, Merlin, walking down the street and outside the city. As a matter of fact, the knight knew Gaius needed not plants. They met earlier that day and his pots were so full he could probably make a good amount of money selling them to the nobles. Why was Merlin heading out then? Not for Arthur. The Prince never asked his manservant to leave town after dusk. Behind his banters and flying items, the young man cared deeply for his servant and would never endanger him like this. Merlin, on another hand, had that habit to endanger himself. The other day, Lancelot stopped him from falling down the staircases. How was he still alive? Gwaine did not know. Especially with all the adventures they shared since the day they met. Bandits. Sorcerers. Magic creatures. He survived them all but almost kill himself in the most random situations one could imagine. Of course, he decided to follow his friend in a matter of second. Anything could happen in the woods, in the middle of the night. What if the brunet was tricked and killed by an enemy of Camelot? None of them would survive this. Well, they will. But they’ll change in the process. Merlin was their glue. The one whom united them in the first place. A little brother. If something were to happen to him, if Arthur found out someone noticed Merlin and decided to ignore him … let’s say there would be consequences. In a lucky day, even the slightly drunk soldier managed to follow Merlin without being noticed. He stumbled a few times. Cursed when his right foot got stuck in a root. Still, he followed his friend and watched carefully, hidden behind a tree, what happened next. Or he listened. A cold feeling grew in Gwaine when the wind carried Merlin’s word.  
“He will forget me. After all, we were just manservant and prince … not friends.” He said. Merlin, the cheerful boy, spoke like a man collapsing under too much pressure. Merlin who joked with them earlier that day, about how Arthur would kill him one day, if he keeps using him as a target during practice. Was he hurt at training? Something they said or did? His thought prevented him from following Merlin and when he reconnected with reality, the younger man was gone. Gwaine searched for him. He looked everywhere for hours. Or it felt like it. Then, the clearing appeared and his blood froze in his body. No. This what not happening. Merlin couldn’t be standing in a tree, face turned toward the sky, a ghostly smile gracing his features. He watched in slow motion the manservant’s movements. Even if he ran really fast, his chances at saving Merlin were inexistent. The wind carried the name of a girl named Freya. Did Merlin lose her? Who was she? His friend never mentioned a special someone before. A better half, lover or even good friend. Thinking out loud, Merlin had always been secretive about his life.  
“Merlin! No!” screamed Gwaine, running under the tree. The small body fell and remained limp. From his pocket, the knight grabbed a knife and threw it at the vines. Call it luck, the blade snapped the liana right away and Gwaine caught his friend. Merlin weights nothing in his arms. His skin was pale and his chest immobile. As still as a frozen lake in winter. With shake hands, Gwaine undone the handmade rope and checked for a pulse. Sure enough, no bones had been broken when Merlin fell to his death. He probably chocked, gasping for air until his consciousness faded away.  
“Please, don’t be dead. Not on me,” begged Gwaine, practising first aids on Merlin. One. Two. Three. Four. He heard a loud crack as a rib broke under the pressure. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, repeating the same gestures, giving his own oxygen and forcing in into Merlin lungs. After what felt like eternity, a loud gasp broke the silence. Merlin’s chest started rising and falling again; slightly, but enough to make him alive. “Hold on, I’ll take you to Gaius.”  
The way to Camelot never felt so long before. The guards are the door sent worried looks their ways and Gwaine hurried. His loud steps sound like those of some spirit of the dead. With a loud bang – and a startled Gaius – Gwaine stepped into the physician’s office.  
“Sir Gwaine? What’s the…” started the old man, before his gaze fell on his ward. “Merlin. What happened?” asked Gaius, hurrying the knight toward the table, where they lay their friend and/or surrogate son.  
“I don’t know…” stuttered Gwaine, nervously scratching his neck with his left hand. “Followed him in the woods and … and he tried to… I lose him for a minute and … was hanging in … in a tree… I don’t understand.”  
“Oh, my dear boy,” sighed Gaius, checking his books and potions. The thing was, he felt magic was involved in Merlin’s current situation. Lately, the boy had acted off character. Whenever people were not looking, he noticed how his ward’s happiness melted to a grim look. But magic saved him too. Around the younger man’s neck, he felt the golden stream that saved the warlock. His bones clearly snapped the moment he jumped off that tree and repaired themselves to save him. No matter how hard someone had been trying to kill Merlin, the boy’s magic acted like a shield. Or a curse, if legends were true. Legends about Emrys being the most powerful warlock ever, and also an immortal being. 

Hours passed and Gwaine ended up snoring on a chair. That is, until Gaius said he did his best and that now, they just had to wait until Merlin felt strong enough to open his eyes again. The sun rose in the distance and the knight yawned loudly.  
“I better go wake the Princess. I’ll tell him Merlin’s sick and banned from duties for the time being. Physician’s orders.”  
“Thank you, Gwaine. For helping my boy and keeping the secret.”  
“He’s my friend too,” smiled Gwaine as he exited the office. Once alone, his smile faded. Merlin almost took his own life. Merlin thought Arthur could lose him and be okay with it. Every single person in Camelot, from nobles to mere peasants knew how close they were. Even that stupid King Uther and his stupid laws knew. If magic truly was involved in it, Gwaine knew it couldn’t force that kind of feeling in one mind. No. Somewhere, even deep inside his heart, Merlin had believed them enough to do so. Or was it about that Freya girl? What if there was no magic here? What if Gaius told him so, just to ease his aching heart?  
Without knocking, Gwaine entered the prince’s bedroom and found him fully awake, his back turned to him and struggling with his shirt.  
“Merlin, you’re late!” growled the blond.  
“Not Merlin, Princess.”  
The man froze and turned over. His messy hair poked out of the shirt, quickly followed by the royal’s head with a confuse look all over his face. The moment their eyes met, Arthur asked in a worried voice:  
“Where’s Merlin?”  
For a second, Gwaine did not find the words. He closed his eyes and saw Merlin’s limp body hanging before him. He remembered how cold he was, how thin … his fear when he realised what had happened.  
“He’s sick. Gaius tied him to his bed,” joked the man, trying his best to hide his worry. Thankfully, Arthur was the oblivious type and accepted his poor excuse. He never found out about the truth. Not when they visited Merlin as a group of worried knights. Not when the manservant awoke. Not even when, after a week and a half, Merlin resume to his duties and acted as if nothing happened. The only change came from Gwaine, who stopped his usual stops at the tavern to keep a vigilant eye on his friend.


	2. In the hands of the enemy

Morgana struck back. After Merlin’s mysterious sickness, several weeks ago, the Prince gathered his men for a hunting trip. They needed something like this lately. After all the battles and tension growing between them. At first, they rode together and endured both Merlin’s and Gwaine’s constant chatters, until nightfall.   
“Merlin, go grab firewood. It’s freezing!” called Arthur. Merlin simply nodded before hurrying away. Gwaine almost followed him, but the prince had other businesses for him. “Gwaine, help Lancelot with dinner.”  
To his surprise – and not for the first time lately – the knight muttered something under his breath. Something had happened between the two friends. Even with his half brain, the blond prince knew Merlin’s sickness had been too sudden. With his manservant busy somewhere else, Arthur decided there was no better time to question his friends and sat beside them, watching how they cut and slice the rabbits and potatoes. Curious glare flew past him when he grabbed a knife and started peeling some vegetables too.  
“I was wondering … does … does Merlin seems off to you too? I mean … he’d always been strange and clumsy, but something’s not right,” he said, not really as a question but a statement. From his left side, Lancelot sighed. So, he noticed too. And so did Gwaine, judging by the way he tensed and clenched his fist.   
“He seems tired. Gaius said he may suffer counter effect from our encounter with the dorrochas. He almost died. These things tend to change a man.” Said Lancelot, remembering what the old man told him once they came back from their perilous journey. The one in which they had to say goodbye to a friend. Sir Tristan offered his life for Camelot, taking Lancelot place right before the brave knight walk through the veil.   
“You think so?” asked Gwaine, a hint of hope showing briefly. What does he know that may cause him so much worry for Merlin? Was he following him anywhere, like a nanny, for that reason? The man caught his eyes and waved off his unasked question. Oh? So, he thought he could just do that and stop Arthur from asking things? How bold.  
“Gwaine, what happened?”

Before the solider could answer, a striking noise frightened both humans and animals. Birds flew from the tree and up the sky at the scream. Merlin’s screech. As one, the knight of the Round Table stood, swords in hands, and headed in the general direction of the noise. Before long, a strange feeling wrapped them. Something, probably magic, anesthetize their senses and the world turned pitch black.

* * *

Where am I? wondered Merlin, when his eyes opened for the next time. Clearly not in the woods, that was for sure judging by the walls around him. Think. What happened? He had been collecting branches and stuff when he heard a noise. Right. Good. Then what? He had readied his magic but then, something pricked him and he felt some sort of dizziness take hold of him. He had collapsed before his powers came to his rescue. Someone yelped too. Himself? Probably. The poison hurt like hell. Even now, his body arched.   
“Arthur!” he suddenly gasped, turning his head right and left to see all his friends’ unconscious forms on the floor. Not for long though, as he noticed Leon’s body moving, quickly followed by the others. At least, they were alive for now. The only problem, according to Merlin, was his incapacity at using his powers now. Had he been alone in the cell, he would have whispered a quick spell and bye-bye … but now, their only way out was the mundane’s one. One by one, his friends reached the land of the living and cursed when they noticed where they were.   
“Merlin, are you okay?” Arthur asked with a hint of … concern (?) in his voice. No. His master would never … he couldn’t care less about a mere … but he takes you with him all the time. All the domestics remain at the citadel, except you. Arthur wants you by his side, pestered a voice in his head. If only the two voices inside him could just shut the hell up, so he can focus on what truly mattered. Like, getting out of here before his feeling becomes a reality. He knew it. If they were to stay here, something would happen. Something bad.   
“I’m fine. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”  
“Hey,” growled Arthur, probably still mad at him for what happened. “You were attacked. I would have come for every single man in this room. Understood?”  
“Of course,” chuckled Merlin, in what felt like a ‘I believe trust you, here’ way. Something so ‘Un-Merlin’ the other men shuddered without realising. “What? Don’t send me that look. You know I’m no one. You can always find a new manservant. But there are only a few knights of the round table.”  
“Yes, and guess who united us?” said Gwaine, his worried eyes focused on his friend. “You did. You met Lancelot. You made me realise some princes, kings or nobles are worth fighting for! Except for Leon, none of us would be there without you.”  
“He’s right,” said Elyan, the quiet one. “I was born a blacksmith and had my fair share of problems. I almost got killed because of my behaviours. Gwen cried more than once thanks to me. Now look. Gwen is dating Lancelot, close to be a Lady and I’m a knight. We were born poor and black! Do you realise what you do, just because of your pure heart?”  
Merlin was taken aback. Was he insane? His friends and even Arthur thanked HIM? He understood and accepted Elyan’s statement, of course. He knew black people were the most unfortunate in a country where being non-white felt like a curse. A curse put upon one without a say in the matter. Merlin always wondered, even at a young age, why there was such a difference between the poor regarding their skin’s colour. Except if you were white and born a bastard. Then, your lives were not so different. 

They suddenly stopped talking. Someone was coming down the corridor. Someone with heavy boots and keys in his hand. A wicked smile grew on his face when he noticed all the now awake men. He opened the door and unlocked Merlin’s shackles, grabbing the younger boy by the hair and pulling him outside the cell.   
“Merlin!” screamed all his friends, but Arthur’s voice surpassed all the others. Fear. Merlin noticed something close to panic in the prince’s soft tenor. Someone slammed into the bar, shaking the metallic door to no avail. It did not budge. Not one bit. “Merlin! Take us instead! He knows nothing!” their yells following them until the guardian closed a heavy wooden door and shut all the noises coming from the dungeons.   
“Where are you taking me?” asked Merlin, clinging to the man arms and fighting to free himself. No luck here, of course. How was he supposed to win when his body strength was one of a child? One room after another, Merlin noticed it was night outside and yelped when his body crashed onto the floor. Did he mention his sore ribs, after Gwaine saved him earlier in the month? Even if the bone had mostly healed by now, the pain remained from time to time. During Arthur’s training session, for example. He was still on the floor when a voice reached him.   
“Well, well, well. What do we have? Isn’t it, Merlin? My dear friend.” Said Morgana’s cold voice. Merlin started to panic. They needed to get out of here. Soon. “Planning to kill me again? Oh no. You don’t have any potion or whatsoever now.”  
“Morgana. I never planned your murder. All I ever wanted was protecting Camelot. You had to die, even for one minute, so the immortal army died too,” Merlin said, defending himself for nothing. He knew that, no matter what, the sweet young lady he met years ago was long gone. “I knew your so-called sister would save you!”  
Morgause was many things, but she cared for Morgana. Even if it changed Uther’s daughter into a monster. Something, someone with a wicked mind and equally wicked schemes. The young woman he found so beautiful and kind when they first met now scared him to the chore. If there were a way to change things. To have her back to her old self. Merlin would do just that. Arthur deserved his caring sister, not that parody of what was once so good and pure in the world. Of course, mentioning Morgause had been a mistake and before long, Morgana sent him flying through the room and into the wall with a wave of her hand. Merlin gasped in pain, unable to move but with his magic ready to protect him. Not that he would use it. The cover of the clumsy manservant remained his best chance at staying alive.  
“Don’t you dare tell her name,” she murmured, her beautiful green eyes sending death’s threat right into his soul. “Now, I have questions for you. You can either answer them and go back with your little friends, mostly alive … or you don’t, and I’ll enjoy every single minute between now and your death.”  
Her voice sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine. All his senses were warning him of an upcoming danger. Or was it because of the high priest soft, warm, breath in his neck? The way a nose caressed his skin in a menacing way? She took his silence for fear and continue her speech. Why do all villains feel the need to speak for hours instead of going straight to the point? Merlin wondered, not pushing his luck in asking this out loud.  
“See, Merlin… I heard a rumour,” Morgana sang, gentle fingers brushing against his cheek. Her nail cut through his pale, snow-like skin but the warlock barely flinches. He had worst. His encounter with Nimue for instance. A fireball hurts much more than a slight cut. Anyway, Merlin knew he had to listen. The next words could be important and he had a role to play. For Morgana, for his friends and Camelot as a whole… Merlin acted as a simple town-boy but now, he needed to show his other face. The brave man that would die without regrets if that mean protecting the people he cared about in this life. Still, nothing prepared him for what he heard next. “I heard a rumour that you, stupid, goofy, friendly Merlin knew about a sorcerer named Emrys.”  
Before he could hide it, his entire body froze. Emrys. Of course, she knew about Emrys. The Great Dragon told him their destinies were intertwined. In the great battle of Camlann, that’s to come yet, Merlin – or rather Emrys – would kill her. Betrayed by his body language, Merlin saw how his former friend grew excited and nervous.   
“So, it’s true, that druid boy told me the truth.”  
A druid? Which one? All druids knew about his legend but only a few learned his real name. Those who ever came near Camelot and met him were burned and he couldn’t think of one who connected the dot. Not until the witch talked again.   
“These people worship Emrys. They call him their king and I had to use lots of persuasion to make him speak. I guess he wanted to protect you. After all, we saved his life, a long time ago.”  
They did what? For a moment, Mordred’s soft face floated in his memories but he brushed it off quickly. The boy vanished after they took him outside the castle. Plus, he would have betrayed Merlin without much persuasion. The man still remembered the boy’s word. He would never forgive him, for his slip. When he almost killed the child, because of the dragon’s predictions.  
“Mordred’s loyalty broke when I cut him from his powers,” she recited, not noticing Merlin’s shiver when she mentioned shutting the young man’s magic. Still glued to the wall, Arthur’s friend watched the king’s daughter walked back and forth as she mumbled. “What I don’t understand though is why you know Emrys’ identity. You are not important. A farm boy and a coward. So why you?”  
Merlin couldn’t help himself when he answered, words flying with a glimpse of mockery in them.   
“What do you want? I’m charming. Even Arthur seems to like me, and he’s a prat.” A yelp followed his words. Morgana glare turned gold and invisible blades pierced his flesh; he felt them cut his shirt and wide wounds appeared on his body. Wet blood soaked his clothing and a pained whimper betrayed him. He felt so much hurt he could scream. Yell. Beg for mercy but he couldn’t. He would not give that pleasure to the brunet. He’d rather die with his secret, protecting Arthur and the knights … than giving her that satisfaction. Wait, no … if he dies here, the others would join him soon. Face it, without him, they did not stand a chance. An eternity later, the spell ceased, leaving Merlin gasping in both pain and for air. Every move made him flinch, as the cuts shown from all over his body. The boy collapsed on the cold hard floor, kneeling in from of the evil queen. She was, after all, evil and queen of her own realm. The death’s kingdom.   
“Who. Is. Emrys?” she muttered again. He felt her magic rummaging through his memories. Searching for something, anything. Thankfully, his powers acted on their own accord. Discreet but hiding what may betray his true identity. She found nothing, not even his wizardry.   
“I don’t know. Find another Merlin to tell you.”  
“Wrong answer,” Morgana called a dagger with her magic. One with a black blade and a strange aura around it. Dark magic. “This,” the witch began, “was forged with the wyvern’s fire, making the sword or whatever highly poisonous. You won’t die, of course, but its fire will burn you from the inside. You’ll beg for mercy. You’ll beg for death and that … my dear, will only be given at a price. Emrys’ identity.”  
“Not happening,” Magnus cold voice answered. He knew the pain was coming. He knew regret would fill him soon enough. Agony still felt like a weak word for what he felt next. He felt dragon’s fire in his life, more than once. But when the sharp dagger plunged between his ribs, missing his lungs from an inch, he actually wished he died weeks ago in the woods. He heard a loud, powerful scream echoing in the room. A voice both estrange and familiar. His voice, he quickly realised. Someone picked him without much care, sending another wave of burn from his toes and up to his head. Everything hurt and he wished, not for the first time, that he could die; right here, right now.  
They were moving. His half-closed eyes caught glimpses of walls, light, a change of temperature. Someone using his body to knock open a door, he yelled once more and shivered at the sudden change of temperature. Burning from the inside, Merlin shook at the cold outside condition. With his luck, he’d catch a cold and joined his father in Avalon with death from a burning cold. The thought made him chuckle. Painfully, of course, but still. Oh. Wait. Someone was speaking. Not the guard. The alcoholic smell was gone now. No. This tenor belonged to a friend. Someone he cared about. Not Arthur, no. Nor Lancelot or Gwaine. Leon! Or was it Elyan? Why does everything had to hurt like this?

When Merlin had been taken, all the knights stared at each other’s. All wondering the same thing. How long before their friend spill all the things he knew about Camelot’s defences. Except for Lancelot. When he noticed where their worries landed, the knight frowned and mumbled something under his breath.   
“What is it, Lancelot?” asked Arthur.  
“You worried about the citadel’s defences. I worried more about what’s going to happen to Merlin.”  
“Merlin is our friend too,” countered the prince, not liking the accusation. “But Merlin is not trained to endure whatever our keeper has up his sleeve. One scratch and he’ll spill everything. I must think of our kingdom!”  
“Then, you truly don’t know Merlin!” growled Lancelot, his gaze turning black. “He’ll die protecting us. Protecting YOU! He never betrayed you before, he won’t now.”  
Lancelot suddenly stopped, as if he already told them too much. He started focusing on some dirt on his boot, not uttering a word for the next minutes. Hours. How long had it been since Merlin had been taken? They couldn’t talk. Even Gwaine did not dare to share drunk stories with them. Ages after, they all heard it. Muffled pained noises. A door. Boots on the hard stone and louder whimpers. They all sat there, chained to the wall, when the cell opened and a limp body crashed to the floor. Merlin, it was him, screamed and curled into a ball. Arthur’s eyes turned pitched black as he tried to throw himself at the enemy. The man just pushed him back, closing the door at the prince’s face. Leon pulled him back, knowing full well how his friend must be feeling. The same he did two years ago, when something happened to his family, and he could do nothing but held his spouse close to him. Wishing he had been there to protect them. Her and their sweet baby girl. Because Arthur, behind his mask, loves Merlin as much as Leon loves his wife. There was nothing wrong about it. Except for what it caused when one failed at shielding his better half from any harm. Further in their jail, Gwaine already placed a hand on Merlin’s shaking form and gasped when the boy rolled on his back, eyes revulsed and blood flooding from various wounds. There was not a place free of cuts. His face. His torso. Arms, hands, legs and wherever one could think about. Still, these open gaps were not the one causing him that much pain. Something else happened. Magic happened, they all realised, when Merlin screeched at a gentle touch from Lancelot. The knight pulled away, taken aback by the sudden reaction.   
“Merlin. Merlin, can you hear me?” Gwaine whispered, kneeling near the boy without touching him. The shadowy form turned slightly, facing his friend. Even in the almost darkness, all could see the haunted look in Merlin’s eyes. Not standing it anymore, Arthur acted on instinct, grabbing his friend’s hand in his. The manservant howled again, staring at Arthur with such fear … not fear, anguish. For what?   
“Who did that to you?” the prince asked, wanting nothing more than break whoever hurt his Merlin.   
“M-Morgana…” came the soft answer. Arthur froze, barely stopping himself from pulling Merlin in his arms.  
“What does she want?” pressed Leon. Silently, they all knew he wondered what the servant told the witch. For a terrible moment, silent answered them. They couldn’t even hear Merlin’s breath and feared he might have died suddenly. But just then, his broken voice uttered one single word.  
“Name.”  
“Whose name?” Lancelot spoke this time, gulping nervously. He knew something. If they were not stuck here, Arthur would have questioned the knight.   
“Emrys’ true name,” Merlin stuttered, before his eyes rolled in the back of his head, leading him into the land of unconsciousness.   
The men worried for a long time. Merlin’s chest moved so slowly that sometimes, they wondered if the boy still breathed at all. Elyan broke the quietness first. He too, noticed some strange things and had to ask questions.   
“Lancelot, what do you know?”  
“What? I don’t know anything!”  
“Sure, and Arthur here is a unicorn,” Gwaine said, rolling his eyes. “Spill. Morgana tortured our friend because of that Emrys. Why him? What do you both know?”  
Lancelot remained silent. Merlin’s secret was not his to share. But now at least, he understood one thing: the odds were not in their favours. Not if Morgana knew about Merlin’s filiation with Emrys. The peasant from Ealdor was more likely to die as for them, they were here just by accident. Useless to the witch. Unless she decided to use them to find her way through Merlin’s deepest secret.   
“Wait… I heard that name before.” All the knights jump from where they were. They almost forgot about Percival, as the man kept for himself most of the time. The large man caught their attention and fidget with his tunic. “Long ago, druids tended to me after I’ve been wounded. When my family was slaughtered with all my village. They told me about a legend. One born at the beginning of the world. About a powerful warlock named Emrys.”  
“A warlock?” Arthur asked, confused by the word.   
“As you know, druids and other magic users need to learn spells. They are taught with books and lessons by their elders.”  
“Yes, and they turn evil. Like Morgana,” the blond heir growled. The knight chose to wisely ignore his prince’s comment.   
“Emrys is different, and the only actual warlock in the world. Rumours said he will be born with magic and that, with the help of the Once and Future King, they will build a kingdom where creatures of magic and ordinary people will unite. Those druids … they think Emrys is already born and waiting for his time. They also believe you, Arthur Pendragon, are the Once and Future king. Bonds to bring back magic to Camelot.”  
At that moment, all of them were lucky no one had been listening outside their cell, or they may have regretted these words. Arthur fell deep in thought. Him? Uther Pendragon’s son? Repealing the ban of magic? What for? These powers always shown him the worst in humanity. No one ever used magic to protect Camelot!  
“I still don’t understand … why Merlin? Morgana is insane, if she thinks he knows anything about that man!”  
This time, Lancelot groaned, sliding a hair in his messy hair.   
“Merlin knows. He’d known for years now. But he’d rather die than give the name. He’s… Merlin is more than a mere valet. I can’t tell you much, but we need to get him out of here. Quickly.”

Unfortunately, they did not manage to escape. Not with Merlin growing weaker by the minutes. His fever made him shake and he kept mumbling strange words, calling people beyond his reaches. Freya. Balinor. Mostly strangers, exception of the former dragonlord. The man meant a lot for Merlin, even if Arthur couldn’t understand why. Suddenly, Merlin’s eyes opened. They were not the usual blue. No. In the darkness of their underground cage, his pupils were bright gold and power flood of Merlin’s body. Magic. Powerful magic at that. Arthur couldn’t believe this. Or the fact that Lancelot ran to the boy, commanding him to calm before he hurt the wrong people. 

He was in the middle of a dark room. Wherever his eyes turned to, he saw nothing but terrifying blackness. Where were the others? Suddenly, a voice called his name. A man who slowly stepped out of the shadow. No. A light just now fell on the huge figure of his father. Balinor was there and pointed an accusing finger on his chest.  
“I died because of you, Merlin. My own son … how could you?”  
“I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!” squealed the terrified warlock, slowly backing to the wall of dark flames behind him. The sudden burn makes him scream.  
“Accidents happen a lot near you. Don’t you think?” asked another voice and now, next to his dad, stood Freya. Kind, beautiful, lady of the Lake Freya. “You persuade me into flying with you. You promised me a new life and what did I get? Death! Death because you can’t face the truth! You’re no saviour, Merlin. You’re the Ankou itself!”  
“No. No no no no no…” mumbled Merlin, his hands pressed on his ears. He tried to save them. Still, he could hear them in his head. Arthur stood there, right in front of him. His bloody body took him off guard. What happened? Why were his bowels hanging outside? What caused such damaged?   
“You should have listened to the dragon, Merlin. You should have killed Morgana and Mordred when it was time. Look. Look at me. Face your work, Merlin. Or is it Emrys?” His blood froze and still, his heart beat faster now than ever. Arthur knew. “Let me show you what happened…”  
Arthur placed his blood covered hands on his temples. A rush of pain flooded his mind and Merlin felt his magic fought back. He now stood in a vast plain but something caught his senses. The sky was red. The grass moist with blood from all the bodies surrounding him. From one side, he noticed the Pendragon’s banner with the golden lion floating. The other side shows a black pennant with a raven embroidered with silver thread. Staring down at his hands, Merlin noticed a sword firmly held by himself. Excalibur. The legendary sword firmly stuck in Morgana small forms. Her eyes were still wide from the shock she had when he probably attacked her. Behind her, Arthur and Mordred laid motionless. The druid’s sword took Arthur’s life and so did the king’s weapon with the younger man. The blond’s dead body rose on the battlefield.   
“See, Merlin? This is your masterpiece. If you tell Morgana the truth, this may be avoided. You can change the future. Tell her about Emrys. Tell her who you truly are or…”

The scene changed and they were back in the cells. With the knights. Merlin saw the shadows of Ghost-Arthur stood behind his friends; Excalibur firmly held in both his hands.   
“Tell me, Merlin. Pick who dies,” he taunted. “Leon? Percival?” he sang, walking behind the men as he named them. “Lancelot? Gwaine? Elyan?” Merlin shook his head, tears ready to fall and his magic bubbling inside him. “Or Arthur. I wonder how it will feel to murder my younger self. What do you think, Merlin?” asked the spirit, an evil smirk making Merlin’s stomach hurt. 

Before he knew it, his eyes turned gold and magic flowed to protect his prince. No one had a right to hurt Arthur. Not even the once and future king himself! He had to protect Arthur. He had to…  
“Merlin! Merlin stop!” Lancelot grabbed him by the shoulders and Merlin threw him away. The room started trembling around them. Pieces of rocks fell from the room and all the jail’s door fell off their hinges in a loud bang. Of course, the noise startled Morgana too and she came rushing down the stairs and to the dungeons, freezing when she felt powerful magic coming from where she locked her brother and his friends. She never reached the door. She knew Emrys was here and before she could think of a spell, she heard a voice in a head. A powerful one at that. It belongs to a man older than the world, but with the innocence of the youth. The voice warned her. It predicted her upcoming death, if she keeps putting her revenge on Arthur and his men. Then, all Hell breaks loose. Her hidden place, her castle on the hill was blown by a sudden explosion. Rocks fell from everywhere and just like this, Camelot’s men vanished. Teleported in safety. Once again, Emrys won and the priest shrieked while pulling on her hair. 

Somewhere, away from the ruined castle, Merlin collapsed on the floor. He had made his choice. No one would die because of him. In front of his friends, he revealed his secrets and picked himself as the one meant to die. After all, these were Camelot rules. Magic users will die by fire.


	3. My way or the highway

__

Where am I?

__

What happened to me?

__

Arthur? Arthur, where are you?

__

Am I dead? Maybe he killed me before I woke again? For our friendship’s sake?

__

Merlin’s drifted back into darkness’s arms; he felt safe, for now.

* * *

Arthur had been thinking. A lot. Near the fire, Merlin had been unconscious for the past hours and all the prince could focus on was how Merlin had magic. No. Not had, has. Gaius’s ward was still breathing, and this would not cease anytime soon. Not even with his … lies. Had Merlin been practising when they first met? Probably. This would explain all the weird incidents occurring when they ran after one another and how Arthur made a fool of himself. How powerful was his friend? He made an entire building fell into pieces. He made them transport without even being awake when it happened. That must be something! Even regarding wizards’ standards. Blue eyes fell on Lancelot. The knight had been keeping watch over Merlin since they arrived here. He tended to the serving boy’s wounds and never let them approach with weapons at hand’s reach. They all noticed healed scars on their friend’s body. Scars that faded long ago, but with terrible stories attached to them. He saw Merlin half-naked through the years. At least after they met, and the boy had no choice but change into dry clothing after their usual banters. Those were inflected to his manservant after he first came to the citadel. By whom? Noblemen bother by their strange friendship? Attackers? Whenever they were ambushed? No. Arthur snorted when he remembered Merlin cowering to avoid battle. Or was he? Strange things did happen when bandits or enemies of Camelot attack them. Branches fell with perfect timing on their opponents, saving their lives more than once. Was it Merlin? He needed to know. If not for his sake, for Merlin’s. If he were right, this could be proof enough all sorcerers were not filled by hatred and darkness. Merlin was the opposite. Kind. Good-hearted. Goofy. A weird sense of humour, which often involved making fun of his master. Selfless too. He sacrificed his own well-being for Arthur, working extra hours just so his amour would be clean for the next day, and then stumbling more than ever the next day. Still he saw nothing. There must have been signs. Hints toward Merlin’s secret. With a heavy sigh, Arthur stretched and walked to Lancelot. The man glared at him, gesturing to his sword and the prince left it a few steps behind before sitting next to both his knight and valet.  
“How did you find out?” he asked after an uncomfortable silence. If Lancelot knew and said nothing, this must mean something.  
“Remember the manticore’s quest? Merlin used magic to save me and kill that beast. I’ve known since then,” Lancelot said, smiling fondly at their sleeping friend. “Then, I started noticing things. Like how he protected us without getting credits for it.”  
“And Emrys? He’s related to Merlin?”  
“I…” Lancelot hesitated; Arthur knew the truth now. “Yes. Pretty much. That’s why Morgana questioned him. Merlin told me her power showed her future. In it, Emrys killed her during a terrible battle. Since then, she wanted to find out who he is and stop him at all costs.”  
“I don’t understand. Percival said I’m supposed to work hand in hand with Emrys. Legend and destiny. If it’s true, where is Emrys now? Why doesn’t he show up and change my mind on magic?” they would not build that future if they were playing hide and seek together.  
“That’s the trick. He’s already here. Hidden in plain view and going unnoticed among your people,” chuckled Lancelot, now noticing how close the others were. They started listening and Leon gasped, realisation filling his features.  
“Merlin?” he asked in a low voice, his gaze unmoving while said boy breathed in and out. In and out. Unaware of his surroundings.  
“What about Merlin?” Arthur asked, still oblivious. He just couldn’t imagine Gaius’s ward as a powerful being. Not even after what they witnessed earlier.  
“Yes, Merlin He’s Emrys. He was born to protect you, Arthur. He would die to do so, if it means you stay alive.”  
“But it’s stupid! Merlin can hurt himself with a spoon! If he were so powerful, he would be dead because he sneezes too hard and just blew his room up!” OK, kind of rude. Merlin was not so stupid. Or was he? “He can’t keep a secret. I would know. It’s not…”  
“Merlin’s more than that. Just … talk with him. Give him a chance,” Lancelot asked. 

With the betrayal still burning him third degree, Arthur wanted to say no. The conflict feelings sent him various messages. Forgive or kill. Understanding or hatred. Decide never felt so difficult before. The prince he used to be when they met, his father’s puppet, roared with anger and wanted to deliver Merlin to the flames. His new self, the one with strong feelings for his servant stood proudly, facing whoever may hurt the brunet. He needed to listen. To understand Merlin’s side of the story. So he waited … night turns into daylight. Another afternoon started and night fell again when Merlin awoke. After their talk the previous day, Lancelot had relaxed enough to sleep. Arthur took first watch and noticed Merlin’s eyes fluttering open.  
“Rise and shine,” the prince mocked his serving boy’s usual greeting. “How are you feeling? You … you scared us.” You scared me. I thought I’d lost you. Don’t ever do that to me again.  
“I … what…” then it hit him. Arthur knew the exact moment Merlin remembered what happened and what he’d done. Merlin went into full panic attack mode and Arthur’s body reacted before he could think. His arms locked around Merlin’s waist and he whispered words he never thought he would say. Especially to a sorcerer.  
“Shh … it’s okay, Merlin. You’re fine. You saved us,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of black hair. Merlin jumped at the touch and Arthur felt a pang of worry. This man could be the death of him. “Are you hurt?”  
“I’m still alive…” Merlin whispered, dumbfound. Why had Arthur did not kill him? He had plenty of time if he had been out all that time. Wait. Arthur was hugging him. He watched him with worried eyes and something else … was it … no. Not love. Arthur loves no one more than his own person; a royal prat. “I was supposed to die!” the warlock suddenly gasped, watching around them with fright. Why was he…? He made a choice. He picked his life as a sacrifice to the goddess. He had to give up everything, just so Arthur may have a long and peaceful life, with a queen and lots of kids running in the castle. But here he was, breathing and … his mind free of Morgana’s spell. Free of whatever had bothered him for the last few weeks. Even when he walked and hang himself in an oak tree. Well, mostly. He still heard the voices in his mind, whispering tempting words behind an obsidian wall. They will come back, eventually.  
“Merlin. Merlin focus,” ordered Arthur. “Good. Breathe in, breathe out … I know you’re scared. Listen to me. I won’t kill you. I’m hurt. I’m furious even. You lied to me … you kept secrets from me.”  
“I’m sorry, I did not…”  
“I know. You had to. Merlin I…” Arthur inhaled, unsure. If someone had told him this day would come, he’d laughed at the man face. “I guess I need to thank you … for what you did. You protected me, us, Camelot. You got hurt and never asked for recognition. Instead, I acted like a…”  
“A prat?” Merlin joked.  
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”  
An angel pass, two, three and an entire van. Arthur knew he just shocked his servant. He never thanked him or anyone outside his knights before. Could one go into shock after such a change in their lives? After all, as a prince, people mostly kissed the floor he walked on and are grateful for his existence. Not the other way … oh … right … his head may pass the doors if he continues. His thought came to a halt when he heard Merlin’s soft voice, while their friends snore loudly around the camp.  
“I’m dead. I’m sure of it now…” chuckled the younger man, raising a hand to brush over Arthur’s warm skin. If he hides it well, the once and future king felt a shiver ran down his spine. When he spoke, his voice sounds tight and uncertain. “Why would you? Tell me, Merlin.” The warlock still gently caressed his skin and they both blushed, even if no one noticed.  
“Arthur never thanked anyone. Not even in my wild dreams. Ergo, I’m dead and I’m thankful…” under his fingers, Uther’s son froze. What for? “Arthur?”  
“Don’t say those words. I’m your king and I ban you from dying. You’re not allowed to leave me. Not ever.”  
“You can’t, I died already. I wouldn’t do that if I were still alive…” Merlin mumbled, sitting awkwardly. His hand still stroking his prince cheek. Their eyes met and suddenly, the world around them felt silent. Event the knights stopped their snores. King and vagabonds stared at each other’s for an eternity or mere seconds. Merlin’s inner voice tried to stop him, yelling something about him still alive or whatever … but he did not listen. He knew better. Arthur had to kill him, with the ban of magic still standing. He may regret it later, the morning after … but for now, the warlock stopped fighting his inner demons. He leaned toward his prince, the one who was still holding him against a strong body and their lips met for the first time. A warm feeling grew in them both. Arthur was stunned but deeper the kiss. He had desired that man for a long time now. Not since day one, no. They hated each other’s when they met; the feeling turned into something else. Respect. Love. Care. He wanted Merlin to feel it all and when wet tears fell over Merlin’s cheeks, the prince pulled back and gently chase them his thumbs.  
“I need to show you something, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, not letting go of the sorcerer as he gently slapped the back of his head.  
“Ouch! It hurts!” protested Merlin, his eyes widening when he realised when he just said … and did. Did he just … had he … no he … oh. Arthur followed his train of thoughts all along and snorted when Merlin yelped, mortified. Trembling fingers before his lips, Merlin shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t … it’s the spell, I guess… I…” Arthur stopped the rambling, forcing his friend to meet his eyes again.  
“Don’t apologise. I’m glad you did it … even if you thought this world was an illusion. And I don’t want a world without you. Not now. Not ever. Understood?” with only silence for an answer, the prince continued: “I like you the way you are. Magic or not. Clumsy or not. Brave or coward. It doesn’t matter, OK? By the end of the day, you’re still the same old Merlin. Now that I know the truth, I can help you protect your secret, especially from my father.”  
“You… You accept my magic?” Merlin asked, still confused at the mere prospect of being free of any secrets.  
“Lancelot talked me out my prejudices.” Arthur admitted. Remembering Lancelot words about how magic was not different from any weapons. Just like a person can either help or kill someone with a sword, the same thing works for magic’s users and as a king, his duty was to bring equal justice in the kingdom. Murder with weapons or magics were both leading to a death sentence. The others shall live free of fear. “Now I see clearly and I promise you this: once I am king, I’ll lift the ban of magic.”


	4. Running out of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the previous chapter (did I said these were supposed to be OS? Well, I failed) Merlin's life is taking a sudden turn. A good one. Or is it, since there is a voice calling him?

Merlin woke with a start and looked around, collecting his memories. Oh. Right. He moved chambers a couple of weeks ago, when they came back from Morgana’s fortress and his friends now know he has magic. They were all supportive and, thank to them, his demons had been quiet since then. But today, he felt something was amiss. Rubbing his eyes, Merlin threw his legs outside his bed and perambulate in the room. Think. Think. Think. There must be something. He never woke in the middle of the night for no reasons.

_Emrys. Emrys, I’m scared…_

The voice echoed in his mind; it belonged to a child. A little one he could feel through his magic. Like a string connecting their bodies and souls. If he moved closer to his window, the bond straightened. The closer he gets to the door, the weaker it became. He had to go. Go find that person, that child, whoever it was. Alas, when he opened the door, there stood Arthur and his bright smile. Lately, the new king kept surprising him and of course, today was one of these days. Yes, you read well. New king. Uther passed not long after they came back; murdered by Agravaine.  
“Are you ready, Merlin?” he asked, almost as excited as a kid. The warlock just pictured a mini-Arthur jumping up and down.  
“Do I have a choice?” the boy asked, faking hope.  
“Nope. It’s your birth right and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”  
“I hate you,” Merlin mumbled, making his friend laugh.  
“No, you don’t,” Arthur answered, pressing his lips against Merlin’s. The warlock felt his resolutions melt away when Arthur pulled him closer, at least until a servant walked past them and snickered at the sight of the two men. Their cheeks flustered, they closed the door and hurried together to the main hall. Before they could step in, where people were already gathering for the big event and gossiping about Merlin, Arthur pulled him into another room. The area was empty exception for a chair and clothing hanging over them. Confused at first, Merlin felt his boyfriend’s hands push him and helping him out his usual attire. Especially his neckerchief. “What the…”  
“You can’t attend knighting ceremony like this.”  
“Why not?”  
“I’m the King, you obey, or I’ll punish you,” Arthur purred, sliding his hands under the warlock’s shirt. Merlin shivered under the soft touch.  
“Prove it,” Merlin laughed, hoping to avoid the knighting by doing so.  
“Maybe later. If we are too long, Gwaine’s going to come here and all Camelot would have a graphic depiction of our bodies.” Arthur explained, quickly adding in an ushered tone: “You’re mine, I don’t want them knowing how beautiful you are.”  
“Prat.”  
Arthur laughed when he noticed the redness over Merlin’s face and he helped him with his new, clearly expensive, furniture. Hunith came all the way from Ealdor and the king wanted to see Merlin’s face when he would see her among the many faces. From now on, his soon-to-be mother-in-law would stay here, in Camelot and Arthur gave her a room across her son’s. Now fully dressed, Merlin faced Arthur; the blond gasped. Instead of his usual rags, Merlin stood there, wearing a blue shirt and black pants. Arthur ordered new boots too and… Merlin looked regal.  
“One more thing,” Arthur said, taking a small package from the table. “Open it, please.”  
Curious, Merlin ripped open the parcel and froze. It couldn’t be … was it … memories from a specific winter came back in his mind and he knew Arthur remembered too. The day he travelled to collect the knights and Gwen’s cloaks. With gentle hands, Merlin unfolded the piece of furniture and smile. The inside was made of fur, to protect its owner from the cold. The outside was bright red with Camelot’s lion embroidered on it. Arthur carefully wrapped it over Merlin small frame and smile, happy with the result.  
“Perfect. Now, follow me. It’s time for you to join us.”

Nodding his agreement, Merlin followed Arthur. They walked hand in hand and reached the huge door separating them from the others. They were taking baby steps in the change of Camelot. First, Merlin’s ceremony. Then, the ban of magic. One thing at a time. Arthur walked into the room first and all murmurs stopped. Merlin started counting in his head. One. Two. Three … eight…

_Emrys. Emrys, save me, please… Mum… Dad…_

Merlin jumped, darting around for something or someone in need. He stood alone in the corridor and shook that feeling. Still, he wanted nothing more than run and find the voice. What was he supposed to do? Walk in the room, following today’s plans and all … or leave without a second glance to find the kid?  
“Arthur is going to kill me,” Merlin thought, still pondering with his two options. “It’s just a matter of minutes, I’ll go after.”

_Emrys please, it hurts!_

Merlin bit his lips, walking one step after another. Arthur stood there; a smile plastered on his face. Their friends all waited front raw with equally bright expressions.

_He saw a dark room, without windows. Water dripped from the walls and fell on several bodies. Prisoners were huddles together in one cell, except for one. In a cell, a person with dirty blond hair hanged limply. Her wrists had been chained to the roof, placing her in a painful posture. These were not ordinary cuffs though, as he noticed magic-repels runes on them._

His heart fastened and he kneeled on the steps facing the king. Wait … was it his mother, standing next to Gaius? Oh, Lord! She came! With his body tensed, Merlin repeated the same promise to the people of Camelot. Like all the red knights did before and will do after him. He swore servitude and protection to all, rich or poor, strong, or weak. Inside, Merlin silently added ‘magic or not’ and knew Arthur followed his thoughts. They smiled at each other’s and the King took his sword, touching Merlin’s shoulders with it. When the former manservant stood again, he was no longer Clumsy Merlin but Sir Merlin, son of Lord Balinor, king of the lost kingdom of Avalon. Or was it lost? Merlin had a feeling that they may find it again.

_Emrys, find me, please…_

The world started spinning. The new lord had to focus on staying up but he spotted Arthur’s eyes. The King noticed his sudden change and worried. They had to thank all their friends, Merlin hugged his mum with a bright smile splattered on his face, but they still made their way out the throne’s room. Just when he was ready to explain, he felt the connection shut. Just like this. Had the child died? Merlin felt panic rose in him. He should have gone and find her, follow her track to wherever she was held captive.  
“Merlin? Merlin, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, blue eyes searching him for any injures or whatsoever. Did he mention how protective the king was lately? From behind them, Gwaine exited the room and eyed them curiously. He too noticed their strange behaviours.  
“Merlin? Princess? What’s wrong?”  
Arthur barely rolled his eyes at the nickname.  
“I don’t know yet. Merlin?”  
“I … not here. It’s about my uh … thing.”  
“Your penis?” Gwaine asked, making Merlin blushed when servants walked past them, shaking with laughter either because of the comment, or the young lord sudden redness. “Kidding. Hey, relax Merlin, it’s just a joke…”  
“Mother…” Merlin squealed, mortified. Yes. His mother walked behind the knight when he formulated his stupid comment. Still, Hunith just giggled and ruffled his black hair.  
“I’m so proud of you, Merlin. Your father would be too, I know it. Before you were born, he often talked of the life he wants for his kids, if he ever had some. A good life and faithful friends. That’s all, and you have it all.”  
“He told you, about his inheritance? His lineage?”  
“All the time, but shall we talk in my rooms? It’s about your … thing.”

Merlin nodded after sending a death glare toward Gwaine. He had to keep an eye on both him and his mother. He feared what Hunith may tell his friends if they had a chance. One word about his ‘pants’ allergy’ and he would never hear the end of it. All Camelot would know about two-year-old Merlin running with his wee shaft flapping around, in the paths of Ealdor. He started wearing proper clothing at age seven, after a cold so powerful he almost died. Knights, King, Hunith and Gwen all walked to the woman’s room and sat randomly on the floor, chair or the bed. Merlin talked first, since his visions were far more important than whatever his mother could share about his father’s past. Balinor was dead, this could wait. The child may still be alive. So he told them everything. The voice he had heard in the middle of the night and every now and then before and during the ceremony. He shared his vision, the cell where people were held captive and a child restrained with anti-magic chains. Not like the ones in Camelot’s vault, no. More powerful.  
“These are dangerous. I only heard glimpse of what they do. No normal users could use their powers with these on but … she had to, when she contacted me. She’s strong. Probably born with the gift.”  
Leon paled when he heard the warlock, that did not go unnoticed.  
“What is it?” asked the king, his attention turned to his oldest friend.  
“How old was she?”  
“Can’t tell for sure. Maybe three or four.” Merlin said, frowning. “Why?”  
“I knew someone from Camelot, their child was born with magic and they hid her the best they could. It helped me see the law had some flaws,” he said, his eyes fighting back tears. “Two years ago, their village had been raided and their girl died. Killed by those people.”  
“Their or your child?” Merlin asked, remembering something. When Leon’s wife had been pregnant, the young woman went to her family’s house and stayed with them for the last six months. One day, Leon had left after he was handed a letter from his better half and no one seen him but when he came again, he was even jumpier whenever someone mentioned magic. They all thought nothing of it, until that day. With Yseult close to term, the knight took some days off and rode back alone to Camelot. Questions were asked since they all thought the family would travel together but he told them about his baby’s health. She’d been sick, fragile as glass, and their physician insisted on keeping her close to the ocean. For a couple of years at least. Merlin’s eyes widened. He remembered a wild, brand new, magic once upon a time. Like the one he felt this morning. Could it be? No. Leon child was like … 6? 7? Still, Leon sudden nervousness spoke for him. Silence fell upon their small group, all knights processing what they just learned. Leon had a magic child. And she died or was taken by mercenaries. If taught by the wrong people, she may become the biggest threat Camelot ever face. No. She probably died and now, another child waited for them.  
“I’m sorry for your loss, really. But we don’t have time. Someone else is looking for their girl and we need to find her. Wherever she is,” Merlin said, feeling awful for brushing away his friend’s sadness like this. “If we don’t help, her magic can… I don’t know. But you don’t want to find out.”  
“Ok; everyone got ready. We leave in two hours sharp.”

* * *

While servants readied their horses and supplies, Merlin stayed in his room and focused. He closes his eyes, searching for the girl magic. He thought the bond broken, but it was here. Weak but pulsing like a small heart. Through it, the warlock felt all her current emotions. Fear. Hurt. Sadness. Mix feelings and betrayal. Someone promised her protection and now, she was locked up and scared. He focused on the string between their souls and found her location. No. Not really, but the path they need to follow if they were to find her. Just like hours prior, depending on where he was heading, Merlin felt the bond grow stronger or weaker. With Arthur riding beside him, on his left, and Lancelot at his right, Merlin led the way and focused on his magic. He followed the invisible trail. For hours, they barely spoke. Night fell, they set up camp and shared stories about their previous adventures. About how they met but also, how Merlin with his new rank. They teased Merlin too, with his romance with Arthur. Gwaine, for instance, kept saying his new life happened because he had been ‘really nice’ with the King; resulting in a sudden scream when the blond kicked his friend.  
“Merlin’s not like this. Show some respect.”  
“Ouch. Unfair! I was just kidding!” Gwaine whined, rubbing his sore leg.  
“Leave it, Arthur. No harm done,” Merlin murmured, sending an apologetic glare to his best friend. With Lancelot. “We’re just messing together.”  
“Joking about your virtue is fun?” asked Arthur, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”  
“That’s why I do the thinking. You know nothing, Pendragon,” Merlin laughed, howling as Arthur tackled him to the floor. They struggled together, encouraged by the knights’ cheers. Merlin rolled on top of his king, gently kissing his nose.

_Emrys? Emrys, are you with daddy?_

Merlin stopped, eyes wide open and paler than usual. Through the child eyes, he saw a memory. A blurry face of a man with curly, blond hair. A man with a vaguely familiar voice. The thing was the girl’s memories were fading. She was forgetting her family.

“Merlin.”  
“Shh!”

_Focus, Emrys. I’m not far. Please. I wanna go home._

Merlin’s eyes burned gold. It felt like someone took control of his body. Someone with secret knowledge. He was seeing more. More than what mortal eyes were supposed to witness. Here it appeared for the first time. The golden trail between the trees, over hills and across the water. This reminded him of a myth, a legend. Long ago, a woman named Ariana got lost in a labyrinth and created a magic cord. The bond united her soul to his lover’s and that way, she found her way out the trap set by a creature of magic. Ariana, queen of her folks, was brave and gave her life for the kingdom. The deal was: if she somehow got out the maze, she’ll live, and her people would be safe. Anyway, King Minos lied and created a terrible creature with only one purpose: kill the young, mundane queen. The Goddesses and Gods, shook by such courage, sent magic knowledge to the Queen. Hecate helps her and, for ages after, protect her pupil’s family. No one ever managed to conjure Ariana’s lead since then. Until now. Was the child a descendant? Naturally gift? Behind him, Merlin heard voices calling his name, but the bond was stronger. He saw then, in a distance, a glowing light. He knew the world was pitch black but far away, in maybe two days ride, a building called for him. For them. Elyan stopped beside him and, as they all gathered, Merlin whispered:

“I know where she’s locked.”  
 _I’m coming, kid. Don’t worry_ , he added mentally.

They waited the night before moving forward. They escaped Morgana using teleportation and with a specific location, they now could do the same thing to find their prey. No. Not prey. Worst word choice ever.  
“Just know I can’t take the horses with us. I have powers, but not that much,” warned Merlin after they packed the next day. “Grab your weapons, anything you think essential for our mission, and whatever’s left stay here.”  
It took them another couple minutes, enough to let Merlin prepare his spell. Last time, he acted out of instinct, fearing for their lives but now … he had to do the same on purpose. Of course, with his luck, things went slightly off topic. He appeared near the ruins but alone. He was alone and, judging by the signals, with a handful of mercenaries and prisoners inside the old building.

Following his courage, instinct or whatever, Merlin walked inside with his magic ready. He hoped the others weren’t so far. He needed their help, he noticed, when a man attacked him from behind, alerting all the others.

They fought hard. Sword against sword. Magic finding its way and killing offenders. Called it miracle or mere luck, Merlin stumbled into the dungeons and felt nauseous. A dozen people were huddled in the first cell, most of them magic if he were right, and they opened wide eyes at his sight.  
“Emrys…” whispered a man, placing thin hands on the cold bars. “I can’t believe it. You’re…”  
“Don’t mind us. Save her, please…” another voice asked. A woman directing him to the second cell. “The thing they’d done… We can’t help her… We tried, but our magics are too weak.”  
Merlin nodded, breaking the lock before hurrying to the girl. She was all alone. Her body smells a mix of death, tears, lack of proper hygiene. When her body fell – once Merlin used a spell to break her chains – the warlock caught her with ease. He laid her on the floor, studying her wrists and ankles. Irons were still there, controlling her magic. These runes belonged to another age. When Emrys legend first appeared. When a person, scared to the core, sold its soul to a greater devil to control the children of pure magic. Those who were born from the Source. These were made for him. His powers shy away when he touched the metal. It burned his skin, as much as it did to the girl. Her skin showed how strong she had been. He could almost see her bones where the burns were too important. These prove all the times her magic managed to escape the manacles. All the moments she called for help, even if it meant more pain.  
“I’ll free you. I’m here. I’m so sorry…” Merlin whispered, his golden eyes burning again and the metallic noise of the shackles disturbing the almost quietness of the room. Once he freed them, most prisoners escaped. All exception for the man who reached for him when he entered. “You’re safe now. We’ll take you out.”  
He didn’t know if he was heard, but he suddenly realised how stupid of him it had been to take off the bonds now. Like water behind a dam, the child’s magic had been suddenly freed. In his arms, he saw – behind dirty blond hair – two golden pearl stared at him. He heard a frightened scream and the walls started shaking.  
“My King, we must go!” yelled the man that waited for him. Merlin wanted to protest, claim that he was no king, but decided against it. They needed to hurry out before all the place collapse on them. “Give me the girl!”  
Feeling a sudden protective urge, Merlin shook his head and held the little thing against him. As they ran, he chanted various spells. He tried to calm her but couldn’t. Years of restrained magic flooded outside her body. Like a river, a storm locked away for too long. On their way out, Merlin sprained his ankles and swore. It hurts. Still she clung to him and screamed in his mind. She was begging for help and he carried on. She won’t die here. Not now. Not when he finally saved her.

 _Emrys. I can’t breathe!_  
“I know, darling. I know. Listen to my heart.”

A criminal ran past them, trying to escape. His neck snapped and he fell to the ground, dead. He had not done that. He had to make the girl focus on something else, or she may kill an innocent.  
“Tell me your name, ok sweetie?”  
 _Gaia. Papa’s a knight. Where’s papa?_  
“I don’t know yet. I’ll help you find him. I’ll protect you.”  
 _I’m a monster…_

Merlin froze. Where did this come from? Before he asked, images flooded his mind. Gaia had killed before. Accidents whenever the mercenaries came to her. From the night she’d been captured. From that woman who came to her, acting all nice until she realised Gaia was just … too pure. Too good-hearted to become evil. Morgana. Morgana hurt a child. She was lost for humanity then. The one she used to be helped people.

“You’re not. You are an amazing little girl; your parents love you.”  
 _No. No. No. Bad. Bad. I’m sorry._

They never reached the tower’s entrance. The construction collapsed. Merlin held the younger warlock against his chest, protecting her with his own body. Pain filled him. Silence fell. Darkness surrounded them.

* * *

Elyan barely stopped Arthur when the building collapsed in front of them. They helped the prisoners and killed mercenaries. Some people were healing each other’s with magic’s help or plants.  
“Merlin!”  
No. It couldn’t be. Arthur shook his head in disbelief, leaving his friend’s grasp. He had to find him. Find them. Merlin was not allowed to die. He gave an order!


	5. Where do you think you are going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some unknown reasons, this chapter is more about "fluff" than "whump"... in a way. Well. Enjoy you reading !

**Arthur’s POV:**

I stare with wide eyes at the collapsed building. It can’t be. Merlin can’t be … he can’t be dead! Buried alive and gone to the land of Avalon. Gwaine hand stops me just in time from running inside when the stones started falling. I scream in despaired, yells my friend’s name but no answer came. In anger, I turn my sword to a mercenary. The man dared to laugh at my distress, and, of course, I killed him. I killed him coldly and feel no remorse. Not even a hint of regret. Cover with dust, I push Gwaine away and hurry to the fallen tower. My hands shake with fear as I collect one cold rock after another. The dust makes me cough, my eyes are watering with unshed tears but still I work harder and call his name.

“Merlin! Merlin!” the desperate words of a man, a lover. I loved him, I still do, and he has to come back to me. I’ll do whatever it takes. “Merlin, can you hear me?!”

An eerie silence falls on the group. We are all listening for something, even a muffle noise from beyond. Percival approaches me and with his force, he starts moving rocks too. I notice how some prisoners want to help, to use their magic and save my friend, but they are too weak. I can’t blame them, even if I will give my throne to a spark of the ban art right now. Something, anything to find him. Find them. Just when I formulate that wish inside my heart, something happens. Hope rushes in me. Here, right where I picked up a pebble, I find a hand. Not Merlin’s, it is too small, but it clearly belongs to someone. Probably the child we came here for in the first place.

“Over here!” I call. The frail fingers move, not much, but the person is still alive if not in a good shape. As a time, my knights, brothers and friends in more ways than I can describe, help me. The more we collect the tower’s fallen parts, the more we realise magic was at work when the building collapsed. A golden shield, thin as skin, covers the child’s arm. Before long, we free her entire arm and are met with bright red clothing. Camelot’s cloak. Meaning Merlin is now closer than ever. Once again, I hear myself call his name. What if he died? The mere thought scares me. I can’t lose him. Not after my father and Morgana. Not when he is the only one keeping me sane and alive. No one can replace him in my life. If there was a drug for me, it would be Merlin. His presence gives me strength and hope. Hope for a brighter future, for a prosperous reign. He makes me see the good in myself and the others. Without him, I may end up like my father. I cut my thoughts when an adult body appears. It’s my warlock, firmly curled around the child. He protected her from any harm. Gently, I unwrapped him – pardon the poor comparison – and call for Percival. I hand him the girl, barely human with all the dirt and coagulate blood on her, before focusing again on the dark-haired man. He does not move. He does not even seem to breathe. Blood is pouring from the back of his head, where he’d been hit earlier. I’m scared. What if I cause more damage by moving him? Had he always been so light? Elyan helps me carry my former manservant to a clear place and we check his injuries together. We are no physicians, but a first look makes us notice things like a concussion – well, he had a tower falling on him, it does no good – broken ribs and maybe more. We also notice his soft breath. He’s alive…

“We need help; but we’re too far away from Camelot. He may not make it,” I say, worried creating wrinkles between my brows.

“The same goes to the girl,” says Leon, who volunteers to care for the girl. I guess he just wants to feel useful, by saving a child when he couldn’t do the same for his own daughter. He never told me about her … or her magic. Did he believe I would have handed her to my father? Was I that kind of prince in my early life? Before Merlin came and changed my world? “She suffers severe malnutrition and abuse I can’t even name.” My knight voice turns into a growl and I can only guess what he means. I noticed the burn when we pulled her from the debris, I can’t imagine what they had done to her. I close my eyes, fighting nausea. Now is not the time for revenge. Especially when we took off most of the men involved.

Hours later, both knights and former prisoner set camp into a new clearing. We decided to move once the wounded had been taken care of and now, I allow myself some rest. Merlin is lying motionless beside me, sometime shifting with unease and I pray for whatever God to help us. Near him, the child rests too. She looks healthier now. Or at least, Leon and Percival cleaned her, so she looks decent, and wrapped in a couple of extra-size clothing and blankets. Sir Leon even added his cloak, so she now looks like a baby carefully swaddle. I won’t be surprised if, back to Camelot, my friend adopts her.

“You two are quite the pair,” I whisper to myself, running my fingers through Merlin’s messy hair. “Of course, you have to find a child of magic and end up in danger together. What am I going to do with you, eh? There are quicker ways to kill me.”

Even the joke sounds lame in my ears. I must be tired. I decide to call it a night and, after my thoughts quieted enough, I find myself drifting to sleep. For a while at least.

* * *

The sun is barely rising when my eyes shoot open. I felt something. A touch on my shoulder. My instincts make me places a hand on my sword, only to find the cause of the ‘threat’. The little girl is up, her eyes burning gold and sitting next to my face. What I felt was her small finger _booping_ my nose. The moment she noticed I’m awake, she tried to run but fell, her legs too weak to carry her. How does she come here? Crawling on the floor?

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” I say awkwardly. I never interacted with a child before. Especially a wild one. “My name is Arthur, I’m Merlin’s friend.”

I gesture to my unconscious knight and jump when a voice pops in my head.

 _“Emrys?”_ asks the small, cute voice. _“Emrys hurt. I’m sorry,”_ she continues, her breath fastening and the wind blowing harder. Is that the kid doing?

“It’s not your fault. Merlin is an idiot. He would have got hurt anyway,” I try to joke, resulting in a pinecone falling from a branch to my head. I saw how the thing snapped and, judging by the look of pure horror written across the girl face, I knew she was behind it. To ease the tension, I laugh openly. Probably the best reaction, since the little one tilts her head, confuses like a cat. She moves closer and places her hands on my cheeks, studying my traits when I am laughing.

 _“What’s this?”_ she asks, still not using her voice.

“What’s what?” I ask, confuse. Were all kids so ‘not specific’?

 _“This!”_ she mind-says, mimicking the smile I had not long before. She also tried to produce a laugh, but not so well. The fact she does not even recognise a smile or what it means crushes me. Even with a father like Uther, I had happy moments in my life. Saddened by that knowledge, I sober off before answering the best I could.

“It’s a smile. That’s what you do when you are happy. And if you are very happy, you make a noise too, and it’s a laugh,” I’m bad at this, right? “You can laugh too if you think a joke is funny. Like, I think it was funny when you make than pinecones fell on me.”

 _“Funny?”_ the cat look is back again. She seems to proceed all the information like they are new to her. _“Not mad? No punish?”_

“Of course not. You did nothing wrong. You were unhappy because I say Emrys is an idiot, right?”

This time, the kid nods and locks her golden eyes into mine. The wind disappeared some minutes before, and I can’t tell what she is using her magic for now.

_“Emrys is strong. I love him.”_

“So do I, I love him and respect him. He’s a dear friend, and I like teasing him from time to time.” Shall I feel worried for the child claiming her love for my warlock?

_“Teasing?”_

“Uh… You have a lot of questions, haven’t you?” I ask, chuckling. “But I have one too. What’s your name?”

She blushes for a second and lowers her head. Her fingers play with the grass beneath us. I can see her mind rushing, searching for the information locks in her brain.

 _“Gaia?”_ she finally says, _“Where papa?”_

“I don’t know where’s your dad. You know his name?”

For the first time, I see something other than fear on Gaia’s face; she is judging me. Like I just ask the stupidest question ever. There is actual ‘are you dumb’ look in her eyes. So much like Merlin now that I think about it.

_“His name is Papa!”_

Right. Of course. Papa. There were not hundred men with that name, according to children. Ok. Think, Arthur.

“It’s a very common name, can you tell me something else?” and please, not that her mother’s name is ‘mama’ or ‘mum’ or ‘mummy’.

_“Show you! Come, come!”_

Curious, I let the child sit on my knees – I guess she feels I’m safe? – and cup my face with his hands. Magic invades my mind, but it does not hurt. It feels like I am welcoming something I longed to meet before. It’s both foreign and familiar while Gaia leads me to a strange place. In this vision, she’s not the scared little girl anymore. She’s a teen, strong and confident, leading the way through what she endured before we found her, ignoring the pain they may cause, to a secret door. The gate was barely large enough for a rabbit. I look up at the young woman, confuse.

_“Push the door, and you will see my happiest memories. They are from before I was taken.”_

_“You look older,”_ I blurt before I could stop myself. No shit, Arthur.

 _“I was older once, in another life,”_ she tells me. Another life? Like … reincarnation? Like, she lived, died, and came back again? Well, her life sucked until then.

_“You’re right, but it’s all in the past. There is more to life than what happened. With your help, I may retrieve my memories and who my parents are now. I’m afraid my magic locked away all the happy memories when my younger self realised no help was coming.”_

_“Wait, you can read my mind?!”_ Arthur asked, horrified.

_“We are in my head, what do you expect, Queenie?”_

_“Oi! You sound like Gwaine, I don’t like it.”_

We share a laugh but, after she tells me I’m the only one – with Emrys – able to unlock her memories, I place my hand over the wooden surface.

Something clicked and the scene morphs into something else. I’m in a courtyard, watching a family in the distance. Blurry at first, they become sharper as I walk. A child, maybe around three or four-year-old, laughs and tries to escape her father’s grasp. I can’t see the man, as he is turning his back to me, but he is blond and clearly busy tickling that version of Gaia. The girl squeals happily and locks her arms around her dad. From behind, Yseult walks with a soft smile, one she never had since the incident.

“It’s nap time, my love. Kiss papa and off to bed.”

“Oh noooo! Wanna play more, pwease?” she asks, giving both her parents the best puppy eyes one could imagine. I almost yell for them to allow her more time, and I’m just visiting the memory. Wait … did I say Yseult? Like, Yseult Leon’s spouse? Could it be? I take a step back and sure, he is my friend – younger – holding his baby girl against his chest. I see him gently kiss her curly blond hair and promising her a story if she just agrees to sleep.

“I even have a surprise for you, if you are nice and follow your mother’s orders,” Am I dreaming, or does Leon sounds like the kind of parents who have a hard time parenting, just because their child is too cute? I’m sure he just makes up that gift story.

The scene changes and I’m now in beautiful gardens. Gaia is gasping at what her father just gave her. A pendant, with a small quote engraves behind. In her hand, a wooden sword hangs, forgotten for now. “I love you, papa!” she squeals, laughing when Leon picks her for a kiss.

Another moment, Leon is on his horse and Gaia clings to his cloak. She is sobbing uncontrollably and scream.

“Don’t leave, Papa pwease! Bad men are coming, please! Please! I’m scared!” she is probably between four or six years old now. Leon shakes his head, silently begging Yseult to take their daughter. When her mother pulls her away, the noble child shrieks. I can feel the panic that took her then, her magic flying around and summoning the wind.

“I’ll be back soon, baby. Be a good girl.”

It is now night. I don’t know how much time has passed since Leon’s departure, but Gaia is in bed, clutching a small sword in a hand. I don’t know where she finds it, but I’m sure nor his mother or a servant gave it to her. Her blue eyes stare at nothing but blackness. Until they heard the alarms. There are screams coming from the village and soon, from inside the house. I see Gaia rushing out of bed, her small arm barely able to lift her sword. She’s brave for her age, I notice, as she’s not calling for her mother. More children would have, that’s what people do when they are scared. They beg for a parent. An eternity pass and the door opened, revealing two men. One fly across the room and I cheer for Gaia. It’s not a kingly reaction, but I’m alone, so I guess it’s ok. The other laughs when he sees the little girl stands proudly and pointing her sword at him. With a single blow, he makes her lose her grasp on the weapon and she shy away. She was terrified, of course. The man tackles her to the floor, and I curse. Why can’t I help her? It’s all in the past, but I want to save that girl, to give her the life she deserves. Of course, I am amazed when I see the way she burns the mercenary’s hands when he took her, but all I can think is her current state, in the real world.

The scene vanishes and I’m now back in the clearing. Gaia watches me as if nothing happened and I smile at her. I also take notice of all the curious glares send toward us, meaning the moment lasts more than a minute.

“Arthur? You okay?” Lancelot asks, and I nod, sitting more comfortably with Gaia still clung to me. “Hello kid, is Arthur all comfy?”

“I’m not a pillow, Lancelot,” I say, still smiling when Gaia nods seriously. Ok. Maybe I was. “She showed me her last memories with her parents, oh and she talks her lot,” I point, winking to the child who hid even more against me. I’m not sure, but I think I have a thing, like a natural talent with little humans. I mean, I’m friends with Merlin, and he’s a child in a man’s body. “Only, she uses her mind. Can you … can you fetch Leon and bring him here?”

The man nod, quickly checking on Merlin before the leaves. Emrys is still out, but I have a good feeling. Maybe because a sorcerer we saved comes to me while I wait for my friends.

“Emrys will be fine. Druids are coming to heal him. They heard the King and Queen’s call.”

“The … what?” I ask feeling dumb again.

“It’s a long story. A legend among our people. Emrys will tell you when the time comes.”

I nod my agreement. I guess I just must wait and see then. For now, I’m amazed by the magic around the camp, with people acting as if they were not with people from a kingdom where their kind is killed for what they are. Is this Camelot future? Once I lift the ban? I have that dream, and I’m sure Gaia has too, if I believe the way she uses her gift to create small sparkly butterflies. Red, blue, or golden insects that vanish when she notices my two knights.

“You summoned me, Sire?” Leon asks his eyes studying the strange pair we are forming with our new addition. “I see our young guest is feeling much better,” he adds, and I nod.

“I think her magic helps a lot. Her eyes keep glowing since she wakes me.” But I focus on the main topic right away. Leon waited long enough, right? I stop Gaia’s game and she looks up, worried and confused, before I turn her face toward my most trusted soldier. “See that man? His name is Leon, he travelled for a long time to rescue you. He’s a brave knight and always keeps his promises, even when it’s hard.” Gaia tilts her head; I can see her picks all the pieces together. She’s still somehow in my brain and the blurry face of her dad is becoming clearer in her mind. Leon, on the other hand, struggles to see where I’m going with my reasoning. “Sir Leon, may I introduce you to the young Lady Gaia?”

I almost laugh at the way the gap at each other, like fishes out water. Leon moves slowly, unsure. He stops when Gaia places her tiny hands over his face, searching for something or showing him a memory. Then, Leon just breaks in front of us. He is crying, for real. Sobbing with an equally crying little girl in his arms.

“Yes, you were right … the bad men came, and I wasn’t there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” and for the first time, we heard her voice. She speaks in a small whisper, with the tone of someone who scream more than enough in her life.

“You came…”

And he did, even if it took them years. I can’t help but smile at them. A family reunited. Merlin on his way back to health when druids came later in the day and used their magic. Maybe there was hope. I have to believe in it.

“You’re right, Sire,” a voice whisper. A druid stands beside me, his hand behind his back. “There may be dangers here, waiting for you and seeking revenge for your father’s actions. But I think you are on your way to become the Once and Future King. If you ever need our help, my people will answer.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Don’t thank me yet. Raising a magical child is a lot of work, she may drive you crazy before you accomplish the prophecy.” I can sense a laugh, a mockery behind his words and my smile soon match his. I should lift the ban of magic soon after we return to Camelot then.

“As long as she’s happy, I’m sure we can work something out.”

The druid laughs even more, but I don’t ask questions. For now, all is well.


End file.
